


Miscellaneous Phineas and Ferb Drabbles

by beacandy



Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: I could have sworn I wrote more, Multi, Oh right some of them are old genderswap things which I don't think are cool anymore, There's only one that I've found so far
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-03-29 19:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3908002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beacandy/pseuds/beacandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little collection of any Phineas and Ferb Drabbles I've written for ask memes or requests or whims.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Relapse

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! To commemorate the ending of Phineas and Ferb, I'm reposting all of my PnF fanfiction to AO3. Please enjoy!

When he walked in in the morning, it was almost like none of it had ever happened. As usual, he received nothing but an offhand grunt of greeting from the Major, who was too invested in his crossword puzzle to say anything more substantial. He curiously looked over his shoulder and saw, per the norm, only three words were filled in, two of them incorrect. He snickered softly, almost inaudibly, and his first clue that the previous day was more than a dream happened suddenly, subdued enough that, if he didn’t know the Major so well, he wouldn’t have noticed.

But he did know the Major, and he knew that he was typically too self-absorbed to notice Carl’s quiet laugh, so the tiny flinch and slight turn of the head was enough for Carl to know that, no, things were different.

He walked toward his desk, deciding against attempting lighthearted banter with the Major, and looked at his nameplate. ‘Carl Karl. Unpaid Intern.’ That’s what it read at first glance in any case, though when he looked closer he saw that the ‘Un’ had been scratched out with a black sharpie. He sighed fondly, knowing that he couldn’t have expected a new nameplate or a new desk, considering the agency’s budget, and he couldn’t bring himself to be even mock-indignant. He simply sat down and looked at the paperwork sitting before him. It, fortunately, was no different than usual, and he set to it with the same humorless amusement as he usually assigned it. All was normal. All was normal.

Peter the Panda passed his desk and doffed his hat. “Still no nemesis, eh?” he asked amicably, and the panda shrugged, but those eyes looked a bit more willing to humor, a bit more interested-only-not-really, and that was his second clue. He wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, and so he didn’t know how to feel about it. “Good luck today,” he said, in that teasing voice, as Peter noticeably did not roll his eyes as he nodded slightly and sipped coffee from his mug, walking to his own work area.

Carl exhaled a deep breath he did not know that he had been holding and picked up a pen, filling in information on the paper, and somehow it felt more boring than usual. Not that paperwork was typically the most fascinating thing in the world, but usually it didn’t really bother him. It was just there, and it had to be done, and it was his job, and it would get him credits. But, somehow, it just felt so  _pointless_  and beneath his abilities. Like the credits they were giving weren’t  _worth_  the hours wasted.

He backed up in shock at his thoughts and almost knocked his chair over as he got up and pointedly decided that he was in need of a walk. He nervously began rubbing his hands as he left his desk and walked over to the water cooler, hoping a clear head was all he needed. Nobody was at the cooler, and he subconsciously wondered whether the agents had noticed him coming and decided to avoid him, or if he was just paranoid. He furiously poured himself some water and shoved it down his unthirsty throat. He decided to see if his mind had calmed itself, but when he was trying not to think about his irritation it was even more transient than usual.

_They don’t fear me they appreciate my spinelessness that’s why they’re nice now they finally realize how good it is to have a lackey who doesn’t think and simply obeys they hate how they lost that and they don’t want to lose it again they want that ray that turned me good to make me even more ‘good’ than before they want me to work without pay until I waste away from exhaustion._

He couldn’t bring himself to be horrified until he noticed that he had crushed the empty paper cup in his hand. He decided that returning to his desk was a bad idea.

A relapse. A relapse! He, Carl Karl, was having a  _relapse_  from that stupid machine. At least, that’s what he decided on, knowing that a relapse was preferable to the other option, the option that the ultimate-evil-inator had unlocked something inside of himself and he’d never be able to seal it within complacency again. He hyperventilated like a primeval fear had swept over him as this possibility became the only viable one in his mind. That he was ruthless and selfish, and now he wanted to act on this again.

He felt the sudden urge to tell the Major that the re-good-inator had not been entirely successful, and urge him to force Doofenshmirtz to make another, more potent one. One that could get rid of these feelings of negativity entirely. He knew that the Major would accept the claim with little doubt and agree to it and make no attempts to read further into it, and that, despite everything, made him feel indignant.

But it worked for his purposes, so he approached the Major.

“Ah, Carl, good to see you. I wanted to ask you something.”

Eyes wide, he wondered if the Major had noticed, if he, too, suspected a relapse, if he was going to make the same suggestion he was planning to make and suddenly the concept of being called out, found out, terrified him and any indignant paranoia fled in favor of an urge to please. “Y-yes, sir?”

“What’s a six-letter word for a deer horn?”

He felt like laughing hysterically. Or maybe vomiting. “Antler, sir.”

“Antler, yes, of course.” He began to write on the newspaper before looking up skeptically. “No, it’s supposed to start with an ‘O.’”

“Let me see that, sir.” He took the newspaper in his hand and said, slowly, “Sir, the gold-medal figure skater in 2010 was not named ‘Yoko.’”

“Really? But I was  _sure_  of that one.”

“It’s Yuna, sir.”

“Feh, po-ta-to, po-tah-to.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed softly, and forgot to look and see if the major flinched again.


	2. Misunderstandings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death warning for this chapter! It was a murder-prompt for Perry the platypus.

When Doofenshmirtz quit evil, Perry was too busy being happy about it to remember that there was a problem. Namely, if he wasn’t evil, he couldn’t very well be Perry’s nemesis anymore.

No, the problem wasn’t with no longer getting to be Doof’s nemesis. They were friends now. He was part of the family at this point. The problem was that he would be receiving a new nemesis.

And a new nemesis meant a new host family.

So, he reluctantly braced himself for the call from Monogram.

_“Agent P, I’m afraid you’ve probably guessed what we’re calling about. You can have a week to get things in order, but, once that week is over, you’ll have to choose a new villain to face and, with this choice, a new location.”_

There was a database full of potential nemeses. Perry avoided looking at it until the week was finally up. But then, when he did look at it, he saw something he hadn’t expected to see. Something Monogram should have mentioned.

A new evildoer in Danville, to be precise. One without an assigned nemesis. A Ms. Shelly.

He didn’t hesitate to select her as his new nemesis, of course. And he came in to his secret lair and turned on the screen as if nothing had changed.

_“Agent P, I know why you’ve chosen Shelly as a nemesis, but keep in mind that-”_

As always, Perry rushed out without bothering to listen. He was actually excited. Sure, there was never going to be another nemesis like Heinz, but he’d started to miss fights.

But there was a problem. One Monogram had tried to warn Perry about.

It was no secret that, toward the end of his evil campaign, Doofenshmirtz’s traps and plans had slowly gotten less and less violent. In the earlier days, he had been fairly willing to include potentially dangerous elements, spikes and lasers and lava and the like. But he’d shied away from things like that toward the end.

Perry didn’t know that Shelly wasn’t like that. She was bitter and violent and more evil than Heinz had ever been, even in the beginning. When she trapped him in a box, he expected there to be air holes.

There weren’t any.


End file.
